Westside Graffiti
by AllzStar
Summary: Bob Sheldon. Johnny Cade. Dallas Winston. All three lives were taken within the course of a week. Bob, my brother Johnny, someone I never met but learned things from anyway and Dallas, someone I had loved. It seems we are all damaged somehow. COMPLETE
1. Questions

**WESTSIDE GRAFFITI**

_By AllzStar_

- I do not own the Outsiders -

- Laura Sheldon, George Sheldon, Emily Sheldon, Jack Sheldon, Janet Eckheart and Ron Brown are straight from my imagination, therefore they belong strictly to me. The same thing goes for any other small characters that I did not mention who you do not recognize. Thank you! -

_Story summary: They thought the Socs had it all, so they figured one death would only affect them. But they were wrong. There was no forgiving forgetting this time. The death of her brother brought an enormous weight down on her shoulders that she was not ready to carry._

**Chapter One**

_Questions_

LAURA SHELDON SWIPED AT A COUPLE OF TEARS that had managed to escape from her dark blue eyes and slide down her porcelain cheeks. They glistened like crystals on her finger as she pulled her hand away from her face, catching the dull glow of the sun peaking out from behind the clouds. With one swift motion she wiped her finger on her jacket and it was gone. Just like her brother.

She gazed at the ground where her brother now lay, buried beneath the earth to rest in peace with the rest of the cavalry. How many other members of her family and friends were also buried in this cemetery? They probably took up half the area. She felt ashamed to be thinking bitterly of such things.

The white lilies that had been thrown on Robert Sheldon's grave were trembling slightly as the light rain hit the peddles, the droplets dividing steadily over the smooth, shiny surface of each tender leaf. Laura felt a sudden tug in her gut that rose into her throat: the lump of tears. She bit back a sob and swallowed it, though she was sure it would come back to haunt her in due time.

The gentle breeze played at her long dark curls that hung loose over her shoulders and the bottom of her long gray coat. She wrapped her arms around herself for warmth. It was cold, but she felt like she couldn't move. She didn't want to, anyway. She wanted to stay there with her dead brother and never go back to her life. It was sure to be nothing but a heartache without Bob there with her. A hole had been formed in her heart, dissolving the place he'd been. It was hard to believe that thrity-five hours ago he'd been alive, standing near her, screaming at her, drunk as a bastard and beating his own record for pissing her off. She'd hated him then. She'd told him that. The last words she'd uttered to him were strictly 'I hate you'. A lot can change after those words had been spoken. Now she hated them.

He wouldn't be dead now if she hadn't said those words to him. He would have stayed home, beaten her a little because she'd made some smart-ass remark (he wouldn't have beat her if she hadn't), then he would have passed out cold on the couch and she would have gone to her room and cried herself silly because she thought her life was lousy. He wouldn't have gone out to hunt some action if she hadn't chased him out. He might have been drunk, but he was still sensitive as hell. He always had been, deep down. It was the Bob she used to know that she loved dearly. And he'd been the Old Bob right up till he'd hit high school and got involved in the whole greaser-Soc shit. It seemed like ages ago, but it had only been four years since the Old Bob had been there with her. Four years of this snarling, hateful, bitter boy who called himself Bob but really wasn't. He wasn't the real Bob. He'd just become that way to fit in with the rest of them. Snobby. Arrogant. Reckless. She hated them all for turning her brother into that monster. And it was this hate that had turned her bitter.

It had only been twelve hours ago that she'd learned of his death. She didn't think the reality of it had caught up to her yet, but when it did, she would cry. She would cry and regret and hate herself for being the reason that he died and maybe even consider suicide. She didn't want to live like this. How could she? Her shoulders got heavier and heavier with each second as the weight dropped on them bit by bit. It wasn't going to be long before it got too much and her back snapped. Or maybe just her sanity.

"Laura?" It was her mother's voice, the softness of it sailing along the wind and wrapping itself around her. She kept her eyes on her brother's grave, but sensed Emily's presence a few feet behind and to the right of her. "Laura. Time to go, sweetie. The funeral is over."

A tear slid down her cheek but this time Laura let it fall. She wasn't going to stop them anymore. The reality was coming.

She knew the funeral was over. But did her mother really expect her to just move on and walk away, happy as a lark, just because the damn funeral was _ov_er? It wasn't fair that her mother could be so insensitive. Oh, but she _knew _her parents cared deeply for Bob, as much as they cared for her and Jack. She was the one being unfair now. She was the one being immature and upsetting her mother, who had begun to sniffle behind her. The sound caught the breeze and settled in her hair, sliding down into her ears. Or maybe it was the rain, which was coming down harder now and turning the dirt that she knelt in to mud.

Laura stood slowly, not adverting her eyes from the carefully carved stone that bore her brother's name and dates. But were they really carved carefully? The people who did it had done it many times before; did they really care about some reckless teenager who died? She hated to think that it was just another tombstone, just another few sentences they had to write with a chisel and stone. It was not that simple. There was much more behind that stone's words. And even more underneath it.

Linking her trembling arm through her mother's, Laura allowed Emily to gently tug her along, their feet dragging on the wet stone path. She listened to the scuffing of her boots and the clicking of her mother's heals, staring at the ground. Her right foot appeared, then disappeared to reveal her left foot, and then back to her right. This was the way everyone walked. She had never noticed how unreal and funny it looked. But she was in no mood for humor. She had a feeling it would be awhile before she could go back to the carefree, happy-go-lucky Laura she had been only thiry-seven hours ago. It seemed like an eternity since that Laura had been there. Now she was somber, solemn and alone, with what seemed like no point in going on with her life. How could she do anything, go anywhere, without the wonderful encouraging love her brother gave her? She couldn't. Not yet. She still wasn't truly convinced that he was gone. It would take a long time for this new open and bleeding wound to heal, if it ever did.

Laura and her weeping mother climbed into the backseat of her father's black Corvair and looked out their own windows. Laura looked at the funeral attendants, all dressed in mourning clothes with black umbrellas suspended above their heads; little black waves in the sea of gray rain that now poured from the heavens as if God was tilting a bucket. This was her life now. Black and grey. Like an old boring movie. Only this time it was real, and the tears she cried were for someone of her own kin, not some made-up fictitious fellow who you cried for because everyone else did. You didn't know that fellow. You only cried because of the irony of it, not thinking that it could just as easily happen to you or someone you loved. She hated herself for being so insensitive and self-sufficient. She was never going to cry for a movie again.

The atmosphere in the car was thick and sticky, the only sound coming from her mother's quiet sniveling and her father's fingers drumming against the steering wheel. She looked over at her oldest brother who was sitting beside her father. He was staring straight through the windshield, his eyes glazed and hard, unfeeling, like Bob's had been, his jaw clenched and set. She wondered what Jack was thinking. Most likely he was thinking about Bob, his little brother, the one he'd neglected. But what was he thinking about Bob? Was he regretting ever tossing him aside like a card? Was he remembering his childhood, when he and Bob had been inseparable? She remembered those days. She had only been four, but she remembered them. She could still see the six-year-old Bob and the seven-year-old Jack, horsing around the Christmas tree, happy as could be, carefree and best friends. They had been that way up until Jack went into high school.

It seemed high school changed a lot of people. She wondered if she had changed when she entered high school for grade ten last year. She had been timid, pretty and smart, the shy little girl in the corner. But that had only lasted about a month; now she had plenty of friends, she was popular and everyone thought she was drop-dead gorgeous. She didn't see herself as beautiful; good-looking, like Bob had been, maybe, but not beautiful. She was too indigenous and devious to be beautiful. But the popularity and attention had turned her snooty and obnoxiou: a reckless wild child with no future and no arrow pointing her down the right path. Yes, even she had changed almost as soon as she entered the doors of Will Rodger's High School last year. She wondered how her parents felt about that; having each of her children go through those doors one way and come out another. They had scolded Bob from time to time for being so ornery and savage, and they had been pleased that Jack had finally pulled out of his troublemaking childhood affairs and become an overachiever star student. But they had yet to advance on her. 

Or maybe since she was the youngest and they had just lost Bob and Jack was in university, they would forget about her. Part of her wished it, and part of her feared it.

Laura forced herself to look away from Jack, because he looked so much like Bob it hurt. She'd never loved Jack the way she'd loved Bob because when they were all kids Jack had been the nasty one and Bob had been the protector, but now it was the other way around. Only Jack had an over-protective quality that was cold and harsh, not loving and caring the way Bob's brotherly protectiveness had been. Before he'd gone into high school he'd stuck up for her, always. When they had been jumped almost four years ago he had taken most of it. She owed him for that, because he'd ended up with a nice big scar on his neck as a result. But he had changed and he hit her a lot and yelled at her and got drunk and threatened her. _But you bring it upon yourself, Laura, _she thought sadly, _It's your fault he hits you. He wouldn't have hit you if you'd just kept your mouth shut! _

Oh, but the Old Bob was there, too, and that maybe, if he'd had the chance, he could have come back. And so, though she knew it was awful and sickening, she found herself wishing that it had been Jack instead of Bob.

She literally kicked herself for being so cruel, though no one took notice of the action, and finally she broke down and cried, the reality crashing down upon her shoulders.


	2. Pondering

**WESTSIDE GRAFFITI**

_By AllzStar_

- I do not own the Outsiders -

- Laura Sheldon, George Sheldon, Emily Sheldon, Jack Sheldon, Janet Eckheart and Ron Brown are straight from my imagination, therefore they belong strictly to me. The same thing goes for any other small characters that I did not mention who you do not recognize. Thank you! -

_Story summary: They thought the Socs had it all, so they figured one death would only affect them. But they were wrong. There was no forgiving forgetting this time. The death of her brother brought an enormous weight down on her shoulders that she was not ready to carry._

**Chapter Two**

_Pondering_

LAURA SLOWLY WOKE UP, HER BODY sticky under the warm duvet. Sunlight streamed through the window and illuminated her room in a soft yellow glow that she allowed herself to bathe in while she remembered the events of the previous day. Her heart sank when she remembered that Bob was dead. When she got up and went for breakfast he would not be there with that reckless look on his face and make cheeky comments about her messy hair and groggy eyes. He wouldn't ever be there. He was gone for good. It was hard to understand. Not only that, it was difficult to believe that he'd been alive one second and dead the next. But she figured that's how all deaths went. She just couldn't picture him dying. She was glad she hadn't been present at the scene. She didn't want to see that. She had refused to look at his body. She just couldn't. It was all too much for her to handle all at once. She'd explode.

Throwing the covers aside with a sigh, Laura climbed out of bed slowly and made her way out into the hall. She descended the stairs one step at a time, her bare feet barely making a sound on the cool marble floor.

The kitchen was empty except for Gemma, her smoky grey cat, who was lapping up some water from her stainless steel bowl. Marly padded across the room, running a hand through her dishevelled hair, and took out the necessary ingredients for an omelet. She didn't know why; she just felt like having an omelet.

The eggs sizzled as they hit the hot pan, making a crack-pop-hiss noise as they cooked. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, flipping the liquid eggs occasionally so they cooked all the way through. Gemma wrapped herself around Laura's legs and purred warmly, rubbing her shaggy head against her bare shin. Laura smiled sadly and reached down to pet her cat, running her fingers through the soft grey hair behind Gemma's ears. _Puuuuuuuurrrrrr…_

There was a knock on the door. Laura glanced at the clock and decided it was a reasonable hour for people to be calling. She peaked through the blinds and gasped, then yanked the door open. All she saw was a red blur and then someone had their arms wrapped tightly around her and she was looking into auburn colored hair that curled largely at the ends. She snaked her arms around Cherry's waist, pulling her closer. They hugged for at least five minutes, and they both ended up tearing up. Cherry began to sniffle so Laura pulled away from her. They didn't need to talk to communicate. One quick look into each-other's eyes told the other that they were in pain. Without a word Cherry entered the house and Laura closed the door behind her best friend, followed her into the kitchen, where the omelet was being neglected and sizzled dangerously. She quickly flipped it off the pan and saved it.

Cherry balanced on one foot as she leaned against the kitchen counter, her head bowed, looking at the linoleum floor. "It feels different doesn't it? The house?" she asked quietly, looking around the large kitchen. "I don't think it's really hit me quite yet."

Suddenly Laura was overcome with grief. Her words trembled as she spoke: "H-he's really g-gone, itsn't h-he?"

She just nodded, and then shook her head, and Laura could tell she was trying to hold back tears also.

"I'm having a bit of trouble…I don't know how to d-deal with it…b-but…" Laura trailed off, and she didn't need to say anymore. Cherry threw her arms around her neck and they hugged tightly, holding onto each-other as if it was the only thing that was going to keep them together.

"I just wish we c-could go back in t-time and f-fix it," Cherry sobbed into Laura's shaking shoulder, "If I hadn't gone off with those g-greasers none of this would have happened."

"If I hadn't chased him out of the house none of this would have happened," Laura said shakily, silent sobs racking through her thin body.

"You wouldn't have had to chase him out of the house if I hadn't made him mad," Cherry sniffed.

Laura pulled away and looked at her friend, both of their faces pasty with tears. "We can't blame ourselves, Cherry. We did what we thought was right. It was about time you stood up to that boy anyway. I'm p-proud of you." A tear dropped onto her cheek and stayed there.

They stared at each-other, their eyes becoming ponds that began to overflow into rivers, traveling down their cheeks and necks and dissolving into their shirt collars. They were quiet for a very long time, until Cherry's nose wrinkled up and Laura smelled the burning vegetables she'd been cooking and turned to shut the oven off, the smoke burning her eyes and causing her to cry even more. She began to realize that these tears were not all for Bob and herself. They were for Cherry, too.

The vegetables were nothing but ashes now. Just like Bob. Just like Cherry's broken heart. Just like her sanity.

**A/N: R&R please:)**


	3. Dallas Winston

**A/N: I made some changes to the previous chapters, so you might want to check that out again. Also, I switched to first person in this chapter because I'm used to it and second person is driving me nuts.**

**WESTSIDE GRAFFITI**

_By AllzStar_

- I do not own the Outsiders -

- Laura Sheldon, George Sheldon, Emily Sheldon, Jack Sheldon, Carmen Eckheart and Ron Brown are straight from my imagination, therefore they belong strictly to me. The same thing goes for any other small characters that I did not mention who you do not recognize. Thank you! -

_Story summary: They thought the Socs had it all, so they figured one death would only affect them. But they were wrong. There was no forgiving forgetting this time. The death of her brother brought an enormous weight down on her shoulders that she was not ready to carry._

**Chapter Three**

_Dallas Winston_

I AGREED TO GO WITH CHERRY TO VISIT THEM as long as I didn't have to talk. Cherry, being the loving, wonderful person that she was, accepted the deal and climbed into the driver's seat of her red Corvette. I got in the passenger's seat and was completely silent as Cherry pulled out of the driveway and drove out of the neighborhood.

It took about twenty minutes to get to the East Side because there was barely any traffic since all the early risers were already at work. Cherry, for some reason, seemed to know where she was going. It had been four days since Bob's funeral and Cherry hadn't been around very much as she had promised. I looked at my friend, sizing her up; trying to prod into her mind and see what was going on in there. But, granted, Cherry's mind remained impossible to read.

It was not until we pulled into an empty lot full of greasers that I finally spoke. "Let's go back."

Cherry looked at me, frowning slightly. "I thought you said you wanted to do this." When I only shrugged, she sighed. "Look, just let me do the talking. Everything'll be fine—I know these guys."

"You do?"

"Well, two of them. No, one. Well, not really. I don't really _know_ them. I just know that one of them is harmless and the other's got a bad reputation. But don't worry about it, I'll take care of it."

Though I was not convinced, I followed suit with Cherry as she got out of the car and followed the striking redhead towards the boys. They were all eyeing us suspiciously, as if wondering what the hell sharp girls like us were doing on the East Side. There were about eight of them in total, including Dallas Winston (I recognized him from all the wanted photos of him in the newspapers) and Tim Shepherd (who used to hang around with Bob before his father got fired and poor and Tim became a hood). There seemed to be two gangs here: Winston's and Tim Shepherd's. One of Winston's men was awfully handsome, and I found myself looking at my shoes.

"Cherry," a tall but stocky greaser with extraordinarily long sideburns greeted us flatly, "Whatdya want?"

Cherry frowned. "I'm here to apologize. For everything that happened because of me."

"Damn right it was because of you," Winston spat, tossing his lit cigarette aside and standing taller. My breath caught in my chest at the sheer power his being emanated.

The handsome one stepped forward and put a calming hand on Winston's tense shoulder, his face tired and worn with grief and exhaustion. "Look, we don't need your pity. We can take care of ourselves," he said quietly, looking at the girls sincerely.

"But we're only trying to help!" Cherry cried, and I sensed tears threatening in her retinas.

The boys shifted their gazes from her to me, looking me up and down, sizing me up. It was not the best feeling to have a bunch of hoods checking you out, especially when you are shy and they are anything but your kind.

"Who's she?" a dark-haired greaser asked, jerking his thumb at me as if I wasn't a living, breathing thing.

I scowled. "Laura Sheldon," I answered coolly.

Silence followed. They all looked at me still, but in a new way. Now they were seeing the dead kid's sister, pretty, tragic broad that I was—at first glance. But my life went so much deeper than what could be seen on the outside…and that was probably the case for each and every one of these boys. Sure, they looked tough and mean, but I was pretty sure most if not all of them were actually quite decent people underneath it all. Winston was the only one I wasn't sure of. But everyone has a breaking point.

The one with the side-burns were the first to speak. "Boy howdy. I shoulda known you were related to him. What were ya, twins?"

"Hardly," I spat, though it sounded more like a scoff.

"Hey, well…" He couldn't think of anything to say, so Winston but in.

"So what are two good lookin' broads like yourselves doing wanderin' around the East Side? Not to mention pullin' up in a lot full o' hoods. We was for jumpin' ya, but, uh, Two-bit here"—he clapped sideburns on the back—"stopped us, 'cause at heart he's as soft as Ponyboy."

Two-bit punched Winston's shoulder roughly. The handsome one's eyes softened suddenly and started shining with tears, but he looked away quickly before I could be sure.

Cherry was mad. "You call being soft a bad thing? Ponyboy was nothing like you could and won't ever be!" She began to turn and walk off.

"Now come on, broad, whatdya want, en?" Winston said to her back, "Ya wanta settle this like the good girl you are?"

My blood boiled and I felt my eyes narrow. I reached out and grabbed Cherry's arm, pulling her back to face them.

"Aw, come on, baby, ya know I was just teasin' ya. Since when was it your bull—"

I interrupted him. "You gotta problem with her, then say it to her face you son of a bitch."

Cherry's eyes widened to the size of plates and the greasers had a look of stunned delight on their dirty faces. Winston laughed mockingly, but it came out in smothering gasps, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, hood."

His face lost all look of mirth and he began to approach me, his boots making clomping noises on the packed in dirt. "You think your tough, little shit, huh?"

"No," I replied firmly, "I just don't like it when people shoot the bull around with my friends. So, if you have something to say, say it. Come on, say it!"

He was now so close that if I reached out I'd touch him. But he didn't stop. He came right up and stood right in front of me, so that our bodies were touching. He stared me down, a look of recklessness hardening in his bright blue eyes that were so piercing. But I didn't let hid intimidating being fell me.

"I got something to say to the both of you, but I'll save myself the gasping and say this: Get outta here, before things get ugly." He turned on his heal and stalked back to his group.

"Where's the kid that killed my brother, Winston?" I called after him, the anger growing into an out-of-control blaze in my chest.

"How should I know?" he replied steadily as he turned to face me from afar. "I didn't knife that bastard."

That was it. I lunged at him, completely ready to claw that smug smirk off his ape-like face, but two of his pals caught my arms and hauled me off. I struggled, screamed, kicked, cried—but nothing worked. They passed me over to Cherry and she held me tightly by the upper arm. I realized that it was Two-bit and the sad, handsome greaser that had pulled me away, and he caught my gaze as he began to back off. I held it for a few beats, the dropped it, pretending to struggled in Cherry's iron grip. When I realized it was hopeless, I just cried, "You take that back and I'll be satisfied. For now," I added to his retreating back. The greasers all turned to look at me but Dallas.

"Nup," he called casually over his shoulder, lighting up a cigarette, "See ya around, babe."

I watched, chest heaving in distress, as the rest of the greasers followed his lead and left the lot, turned a corner and disappeared.

"Well, that was a disaster. So much for not speaking, huh?" Cherry asked, finally letting me go and getting into the car. "I didn't even get a chance to say what I wanted to say. That was the main part of this trip. Now you've got Winston on your back. Way to go."

"He'll kill me someday, yeah." There was something in the bitterness of my voice that made Cherry look up at me with a concerned look in her eyes. I sighed. "Sorry for freaking out like that, Cherry."

"No problem. You had a right to." Cherry looked around, waiting. "You gonna get in or not? Or would you rather walk?" she added with humor.

But I was not in the mood for humor. I climbed in without answering and looked out the back as Cherry pulled out of the lot, dust kicking up and obscuring the spot where I fell in love with a hood.

**A/N: Best chapter so far, hands down. R&R please. :)**


	4. Crime and Punishment

**WESTSIDE GRAFFITI**

_By AllzStar_

- I do not own the Outsiders -

- Laura Sheldon, George Sheldon, Emily Sheldon, Jack Sheldon, Carmen Eckhart and Ron Brown are straight from my imagination; therefore they belong strictly to me. The same thing goes for any other small characters that I did not mention who you do not recognize. Thank you! -

_Story summary: They thought the Socs had it all, so they figured one death would only affect them. But they were wrong. There was no forgiving forgetting this time. The death of her brother brought an enormous weight down on her shoulders that she was not ready to carry._

**Chapter Four**

_Crime and Punishment_

WE DIDN'T HAVE ANYTHING ELSE TO DO and we were both bored as hell, so Cherry drove us over to the nearest bar. It was stingy, old and full of cigarette smoke, and the music playing was awful, but right then we were too depressed to care. As soon as we entered men were checking us out; after all, you don't often see two Soc girls at a bar no the East Side of Tulsa.

We both got seats at the bar (we basically had to beat two drunken hoods off of us to do so) and ordered two light beers. I wasn't in the mood for anything too heavy, and there were too many guys here to take advantage of us.

As we were taking the first sips of our drinks the bell above the door rattled loudly quite a few times as several young men entered. I glanced over briskly, wondering whether the new comers could be a threat to us, and turned around quickly, stifling a gasp. Who should come in but Winston and his gang. I shot Cherry a "oh, no, here comes trouble; let's beat it" look. She glanced over her shoulder at them then returned it. But Winston had already spotted us.

He loped over and sat beside me, leaning on the counter. "Well, well, well. Lookie what we got ourselves here. To Socy broads, waiting to be raped. Who'd've thought?"

"You followed us here." I gave him my best glare but he didn't flinch.

He grinned wolfishly. "No shit, hunny."

"Leave us alone," Cherry groaned.

Winston held up his hands, pretending to be offended. "Déjà vu! Come one, hun, I ain't gonna hurt ya. What is it ya wanted to say earlier?"

"She was trying to apologize and make nice with you guys because the pain was killing her, dumbass," I explained impatiently, setting my drink down on the counter loudly.

"Hey, you started the whole confrontation, baby. Don't go blaming some dangerous hood."

"Dangerous, huh. I've seen a lot more danger than you'd think."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it's your lucky day. I'll beat the record for ya." Without warning he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me off the stool and into him, then kissed me feverently, running one dirty hand over my breasts and the other holding my tightly so I couldn't get away. With a groan, he shoved his tongue impatiently into my mouth, feeling all around.

I screamed in my head and struggled, trying desperately to get away. I tried hitting him, but my arms were pinned to my sides. I kicked, but I was standing and he was sitting so it didn't work.

He got up, finally breaking the kiss, but before I could smack him and beat it out of there he picked me up and flung me over his shoulder. I screamed louder than I ever had before and pounded on his back. I hair was flying all over the place and I was sweating something awful. Cherry was screaming my name and cursing Winston good.

Some wasted men began cheering him on, but there was one that was heading towards us with a determined look on his face. He shoved through the crowd, not taking his eyes off of me. He was trying to get to me and help me.

Winston began climbing up some stairs and I screamed louder, terrified of what he was going to do to me. I knew what he wanted.

"HELP!" I screamed, punching his back harder. "PUT ME DOWN YOU SON OF A BITCH! PUT ME DOWN!"

He didn't, of course. He burst into an empty bedroom and flung me down on the bed. I puched him hard in the nose, but he was faster and pinned me down. Then he kissed me again. I was so light headed and panicked that I didn't hear the door open with a bang. Suddenly Winston was pulled away from me and the sound of someone being punched was heard. Then screamed curses. Then more punching. I sat up, dazed, and saw that the handsome greaser from the lot was standing there yelling at Winston, his eyes full of rage and worry. Eyes that had seen too much. Eyes that would never be innocent.

The good-looking one belted Winston a good one across the face, and to my surprise, Winston fell back onto the bed, and appeared to have passed out cold. The handsome one grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the room, shutting it tightly behind us. Then he led me downstairs and out of the bar and into the cold street. I was shivering something awful and I think I was crying and I couldn't stop. I wrapped my arms around me and rocked back and forth on my heels.

The greaser stuck a cigarette in his mouth and lit up, then offered me one. With a shaking hand I accepted it. He gave me his lighter and I lit it, then hastily handed it back to him. He took a long drag on his cigarette before speaking. "You okay?"

I shrugged lightly. "Ask me later."

He chuckled humourlessly, and then took another puff. We smoked in silence for a moment, then, "So I'm guessing you're that kid's sister?"

By "that kid" he meant Bob, obviously. I nodded. He smiled sympathetically. "Sorry. About what happened, I mean."

"Don't worry about it. You didn't kill him."

"Naw. My brother did."

I raised my eyebrows and then figured out why he looked so sad. "Really?" 

"Well, no. My brother's best friend killed him because your brother was…"

I waited. "Yes?"

"Your brother was drownin' my brother, that's why." He said this quickly, as if he were ashamed.

My breath caught in my throat. "I knew Bob brought it on himself. I knew he deserved it. How old's your brother?"

"Fourteen."

Tears suddenly flooded my eyes. "Glory, he's only a kid! How could Bob be so heartless!" Suddenly I realized something and my eyes went wide. "Is he okay?"

"I don't know," he answered tearfully, "He's gone. He and Johnny ran away, outta town. I have suspicions that Dally helped them out and knows where they are, but he's hard as a rock. I can't get nothin' out of him. I reckon Pony told Dal not to tell me and Darry 'cause Darry would freak…"

When I looked confused he said, "Darry's my older brother and he's really over protective of Pony. Pony's the kid." 

"I figured that out. Is Pony his nickname or something?"

"Naw. Ponyboy's his real name."

"You're kidding?"

"Nup."

"Well."

"Yeah. Original dad."

"I could tell." Silence. "So what's your name?"

"Sodapop. Curtis."

"Sodapop?"

"Original dad, remember?"

This made me laugh softly. He chuckled and took a drag on his weed. I did, too.

"Do you want me to drive you home?" he asked after a minute's silence.

I raised my eyebrows, surprised. "No, it's okay. I'll walk."

He laughed. "No way, not at night on the East Side. I'll take you and your friend home."

Oh, my God. Cherry! "Oh, Jesus. Where is Cherry?"

"Still in the bar. Two-bit's calmin' her down. She wanted to go after you but we convinced her it'll only get you both into trouble."

I smiled. That sounded like something Cherry would do.

"So you wanna ride or not?"

"Sure. Thanks."

"No problem."

Ten minutes later we were driving in silence in Sodapop's old truck. I was sitting beside him and Cherry had passed out in the back seat as a result of too much booze. Poor girl was gonna have a nasty hang-over in the morning.

We pulled up in front of my house and Sodapop carried Cherry in and laid her on the couch. "She sleeps over her a lot," I explained when Soda asked if I minded having Cherry here. He had said it was late and his brother would pound him to a pulp if he missed his curfew. We said an awkward good-bye and he left. I watched his truck's taillights as they disappeared around the bend. Part of me was happy he had rescued me from Winston's wrath. Yet the other part of me had wanted it. It was strange. I was absolutely sure that I was losing my mind.


	5. Honesty

**WESTSIDE GRAFFITI**

_By AllzStar_

- I do not own the Outsiders -

- Laura Sheldon, George Sheldon, Emily Sheldon, Jack Sheldon, Carmen Eckheart and Ron Brown are straight from my imagination, therefore they belong strictly to me. The same thing goes for any other small characters that I did not mention who you do not recognize. Thank you! -

_Story summary: They thought the Socs had it all, so they figured one death would only affect them. But they were wrong. There was no forgiving forgetting this time. The death of her brother brought an enormous weight down on her shoulders that she was not ready to carry._

**Chapter Five**

_Honesty_

"OH, MY GOD. YOU ARE IN LOVE WITH HIM, AREN'T YOU?"

I frowned at Cherry, unsure of what she meant. "Huh?"

"You're in love with that Sodapop kid, aren't you?"

My eyes widened. "What? No!"

Cherry smiled. "You so are."

"What brought this conversation on?"

She grinned wider. Cherry was doing really well. She had brushed her hair for the first time in days and she wore a light coating of make-up. She still wore a black band around her arm, as I did, but she seemed…happier. As if she was finally starting to move on. Sure, we were all still grieving, but now it didn't seem so heavy. My shoulders were lightening up. I just wished I could heal as fast as she could.

"Ever since we went to the lot, you've been different. Bubbly-like. I mean, look at you! You are glowing! Ever since you met that guy, you've seemed….happier." She was beaming from ear to ear now. I hated to let her down hard, but I could not have these thought on my tail.

"I don't love him, Cherry. I don't even like him. It's not like that at all."

"Sure."

"I'm serious!"

"Right."

I sat back, exasperated. The cool wind was blowing my hair in a disarray of brown swirls and it was getting really annoying. I kept having to sweep the hair out of my face. Damn Corvette and its non-existent roof.

I began thinking of Sodapop. He was handsome, yeah. Better-looking than Bob had been, that was for sure. But there was something about him that made me not want to go there with him. Maybe it was his sadness and all his worries. He always seemed to be in distress. But then again, his kid brother was missing, his job performance was suffering, and he and his brother were struggling to pay off the bills. It was a lot for a sixteen-year-old to carry, and I didn't blame him for being stressed out all the time. I realized I didn't have it half as bead as he did.

"You sure see him a lot."

"We're friends."

"It'll end up being more."

"Cherry, drop it." She knew that tone of voice, so she obeyed. But she didn't stray all the way off of the subject.

"Okay, so maybe it's not Sodapop you're in love with. But there has to be _some_body. Come on, Laura. I'm your best friend. Can't you tell me?"

"No, because then I would be making stuff up."

"Laura. You love someone. Spill it."

"No."

"Fine! Whatever. Don't tell me." She turned away, scowling.

Great, now she was torturing me with the silent treatment. She was going to shun me till I gave in. But I wasn't. Right? Oh, but the pressure was killing me.

"Oh, God, Cherry, I give up. I think I am in love with Dallas Winston."

She turned to look at me, her eyes huge and round, her eyebrows disappearing behind her bangs. "That trash? Seriously! Oh, my God! Laura! Ew!"

"See, this is why I didn't want to tell you."

"You have got to be kidding me. He is no where near decent."

"Well, decent isn't what I want," I snapped.

She looked hurt. Well, that's what she gets for ticking me off.

"You'd have been better off with Sodapop," he mumbled. We were silent the rest of the way home.


	6. Ending It

**WESTSIDE GRAFFITI**

_By AllzStar_

- I do not own the Outsiders -

- Laura Sheldon, George Sheldon, Emily Sheldon, Jack Sheldon, Carmen Eckheart and Ron Brown are straight from my imagination, therefore they belong strictly to me. The same thing goes for any other small characters that I did not mention who you do not recognize. Thank you! -

_Story summary: They thought the Socs had it all, so they figured one death would only affect them. But they were wrong. There was no forgiving forgetting this time. The death of her brother brought an enormous weight down on her shoulders that she was not ready to carry._

**Chapter Six**

_Ending It_

"Have you heard?" Jack asked loudly, throwing the newspaper down hard onto the kitchen table and sat down angrily. I looked up from my cereal, my eyebrows raised, sensing distraught.

"Have I heard what?"

"They came back."

"Who did?"

"The kids that murdered our brother, that's who!" Jack jumped up and began pacing the floor. "They came back heroes. Heroes! All because they saved some good-for-nothing kids from burning. What the hell is going on here? They killed Bob, rescued some kids, and get off easy for murdering him?" Jack was angry. I mean, angrier than I'd seen him in a long time.

I picked up the news paper and flipped through it to the right page. There was the head-turning headline: _**"JUVENILE DELINQUENTS TURN HEROES". **_My heart began to sink as I started to read the article:

_The return of the two boys (Pony Boy Curtis, 14; and Johnny Cade, 16) who murdered Robert Sheldon, 18, in the park last Tuesday night caused a riot at the police station. Unfortunately, Cade, who actually killed the boy, is not available for questioning as he is in hospital in critical condition. Witnesses say that the two boys rescued ten children from a fatal fire that burned the old abandoned church in Windrixville. The children were playing inside when the blaze started. Police are investigating the cause of the fire._

_Cade has suffered severe back injuries and burns that will remain scars forever if he recovers. Curtis, thought, has been released with minor burns and has reacted badly to questioning. "We were out getting lunch and when we came back the place was burning," says Curtis while sitting with his brothers Soda Pop and Darrel, "We heard an adult say the kids were inside so we ran in to help them."_

_But it turns out that there were not two boys involved in this mess, but three. A third young man appeared at the scene and aided his companions in removing the children one by one from the church; carrying them out the window. The boy was identified as Dallas Winston, 17, a familiar face to police. But in this case he too became hero. He is being kept in the hospital with a severe burn to his forearm. Witnesses say that Winston pulled Cade out of the church before it collapsed on him, though Cade had already fainted from smoke inhalation and pain. Doctors inform us that a piece of the roof had hit Cade across the back and might have broken it._

_On a happier note, the reunion of Curtis and his brothers was rather touching. The boys had not seen each-other in six days. "It's a relief to see our kid brother again," says Darrel Curtis, age 20. "We was worried sick about him."_

_Soda Pop, on the other hand, had a different attitude about the situation. While goofing off and making even the most solemn of people laugh, he managed to say to us, "Us and our pals joked that he and Johnny had gone and killed someone, and we laughed about it. I guess we know better now than to jump to conclusions in these situations. Anyway, we knew Pony wouldn't want to worry us on purpose. He's soft as a girl, see." He ended by giving his younger brother a playful punch in the shoulder._

_The family of the deceased boy is still in grieving mode and will receive…_

I stood up and threw the newspaper across the room. Without a look at Jack and grabbed my coat and car keys and practically ran out of the house and to my car. I wondered whether I should call Cherry, but figured she probably already knew. I couldn't waste time anyway. I had to see Sodapop and Ponyboy now.

I drove a few miles over the speed limit to the East Side and screeched into a parking spot at the DX gas station, where Sodapop worked. Fuming, I got out and slammed the car door, locking it hurriedly. I stormed over to the store and yanked the door open, the bell rattling furiously.

Sodapop looked up at me from the counter, surprised. His eyes shot open when they saw who it was. "Laura? What are you—"

"I need to talk to you," I interrupted, walking right up to the counter.

He smiled and leaned back so that his eyes were level with mine. "Okay, shoot."

"I read the newspaper."

He face fell. "Oh."

"Why didn't you tell me Johnny got hurt? Why didn't you tell me Winston helped save those kids? Why didn't you tell me they were back in town?"

He held up his hands, his eyes telling me that he was overwhelmed. "Whoa, whoa. How could I have told you? It's not like I know where you live. I don't have your number. We ain't even real friends, last time I checked. And the interview only happened two night ago."

I sighed. He was right, of course. He was always right. Even though I'd only known him for a grand total of nine hours I knew he was right. I rolled my eyes. "Well, sorry. I'm just really…flustered, I guess. Frustrated and flustered. Sorry."

"No problem."

We were quiet for a moment.

"Can I see your brother?" I asked hesitantly.

He was surprised. "Huh?"

"Your brother. Ponyboy."

He bit his lip and looked around. "I dunno. He doesn't seem…well."

"Can you expect him too? He just got back from trauma, his best friend's broken his back, he's—"

"I know what condition he's in!" he snapped, "He's my brother ain't he? How can you be defending him when you don't even know him? You don't even know me! What business do you have coming here and acting like we've known each-other forever!"

My jaw tightened and tears welled up suddenly. "You're right. I'll leave you alone."

He expression softened. "No, I didn't mean that, it's just…"

"I get it. You don't want me around. I'm a Soc, you're a greaser. Socs and greasers aren't supposed to talk to each-other. We should have just kept it that way to save all the hurt."

"Laura, no—"

"Forget it." I turned and walked out, tears already falling onto my cheeks. I heard him call my name, but knew he didn't care enough to follow me. And as I got in my car and drove away, I turned to see that I was right.


	7. Back To School

**WESTSIDE GRAFFITI**

_By AllzStar_

- I do not own the Outsiders -

- Laura Sheldon, George Sheldon, Emily Sheldon, Jack Sheldon, Carmen Eckheart and Ron Brown are straight from my imagination, therefore they belong strictly to me. The same thing goes for any other small characters that I did not mention who you do not recognize. Thank you! -

_Story summary: They thought the Socs had it all, so they figured one death would only affect them. But they were wrong. There was no forgiving forgetting this time. The death of her brother brought an enormous weight down on her shoulders that she was not ready to carry._

**Chapter Seven**

_Back to School_

Ah, the fearsome monstrosity that is school. I don't know what made me do it, but I agreed to go back. How stupid of me. To think that a few days ago I would have screamed and thrown something across the room at the mere suggestion of it.

But that wasn't all. Mountains of homework awaited me, and I had no energy to do it. Homework plus lack of sleep equals disaster. And that befell me the night of the first day back. But the actually day had been worse.

I sat at my desk surrounded by old textbooks, my math book open before me. I stared at the little "Fuck You" that had been written in messy writing in the margin of the textbook while my mind wandered to the events of the day. I recalled it bit by bit, wondering what the hell had given me the nerve to do it. But at least now I had some decent information and more reason to talk to Sodapop.

So here it is:

I got to school, and as expected, every time I walked in the room everything went quiet, as if everyone was waiting for me to break down into tears or scream or run out of the room like a lunatic. By that time I wanted to. The problem with having a popular brother is that everyone knew him and like him (save the greasers, of course) and everyone knew the story and that I was his sister and they all wanted to know more. And they thought their main source of info would be me. But I made it clear to them that they knew what I knew. But that was a lie. Granted.

Lunch break couldn't come soon enough. Oh, but random people still came up to me offering me their condolences and asking if I was alright and how I felt about the whole situation. I mean, how could I accept condolences from people who I didn't know, and who might not even have known Bob? I couldn't. I simply turned and walked away, or grunted a quick "Thanks" or something. It was awful.

I looked around, eager for a place alone to sit (though it probably wouldn't last long; people would seek me out and sit with me. Complete strangers, too.), and my heart sank when I saw there was no empty table. But there was one that was occupied by a boy who sat alone, picking at his food and not lifting his fork to his mouth once.

I mingled, waiting to see if he would look up so I could get a good look at his face. I had a pretty good idea who this boy was. He was a greaser, no doubt. He wore a t-shirt and stiff blue jeans and tennis shoes with holes in the toes and his hair was slick with oil.

There was a shout from across the cafeteria and some Soc guys began clowning around with the silverware. Finally the boy looked up to see what the fuss was about and I had to do a double-take. I thought it was Sodapop! This must be Ponyboy, his kid brother. They looked so much alike; save for where Soda had gold colored hair Ponyboy had bleached his blond.

Taking a deep breath and gathering by courage, I walked over to his table and set my tray down across from him. He looked up, surprised, and I stared down into his big, watery murky colored eyes. "Hi," I said quietly, smiling sweetly. "There's no where else decent…you mind if I sit here?"

He shook his head stiffly. Boy howdy, I thought, this really must be strange for him! A good-looking Soc girl going out of her way to sit with a lonely kid greaser? How appalling. And with a crappy-ass excuse, too. There were plenty of places to sit.

"Thanks." I sat down and reached up to pull my hair into an elastic, the curls going wild at the sudden action.

I sighed audibly. He looked back down at his meal. I picked up my BLT sandwich and bit into it. Silence. After a while I couldn't stand it, so I struck up a conversation. "Lousy day, isn't it?"

"Mmhmm," he replied, not even moving his gaze from his macaroni.

Okay, small talk wasn't working. I tried a different approach, deciding (and wincing in my head) to bring up the subject, hoping to get him talking. "I know you've probably heard it a million times, and I'm not just sitting here to get information out of you, but you were one of the kids who…_abolished…_Bob Sheldon, right?"

He sort of half sighed half scoffed, as if he didn't believe my story that I didn't sit just sit there for information. He was exasperated, as was I. "Yes. I was. I wish people would leave me alone about it."

"Me too," I said, hoping he'd catch on and I wouldn't have to tell him who I was.

He cocked an eyebrow but didn't ask.

I inhaled and exhaled heavily. "Bob was, well…Bob was my brother, see."

He drew in a sharp intake of breath and dropped his fork. He looked at me with watery eyes. "Glory, be. Golly, miss, I really ams sorry. We didn't mean to kill him, honest! It was an accident. They was drownin' me and alls Johnny wanted to do was save me—I mean, what friend wouldn't, right?—But it didn't go right, see, and…and…"

I held up a hand to silence him. He obeyed. "I understand, don't worry about it. You're brother told me quite a bit about you. I mean, enough that I know you or Johnny wouldn't kill anyone on purpose."

"You know Darry?"

"Naw, Sodapop."

"Oh. Figures."

I frowned a little. "Why do you say that?"

He smirked. "Soda's always got girls after him. Even Socs."

I laughed. "I'm not after him, don't worry. I'm…acquainted with him is all."

He nodded and miraculously spooned some noodles onto his fork and put it in his mouth. "Hey!" I cried, "I got you eatin'!"

He only laughed.


	8. Catastrophe

**WESTSIDE GRAFFITI**

_By AllzStar_

- I do not own the Outsiders -

- Laura Sheldon, George Sheldon, Emily Sheldon, Jack Sheldon, Carmen Eckheart and Ron Brown are straight from my imagination, therefore they belong strictly to me. The same thing goes for any other small characters that I did not mention who you do not recognize. Thank you! -

_Story summary: They thought the Socs had it all, so they figured one death would only affect them. But they were wrong. There was no forgiving forgetting this time. The death of her brother brought an enormous weight down on her shoulders that she was not ready to carry._

**Chapter Eight**

_Catastrophe_

I trudged up the path to my house, my boots dragging on the wet pavement, my scarf drawn tightly around my neck to protect it from the bitter wind. It sure was getting cold around here. Winter played no mercy on the population of Tulsa, I could tell you that much. My thoughts wandered back to Ponyboy and poor Johnny. They must have been freezing when they were up in Windrixville, and they had been in a non-heated good-for-nothing broken down old church. I wished there was something I could have done for them, but it was over now. I just wished that Johnny hadn't suffered.

Ponyboy had opened up and told me a lot about himself and his gang, including Sodapop which I secretly enjoyed. He described to me what it had been like in the church: barely any food, funny-tasting water, and kind of creepy. "I can imagine," was all I could say. Poor kids, was what I thought. Though Ponyboy had said Johnny was my age, as was Sodapop. Then I asked him why I never saw Soda at school, he just told me grimly that his brother was a drop out and he'd rather not talk about it. I was a little disappointed, but let it go.

I closed the door behind me and kicked off my boots and threw my coat and hat and gloves onto the back of the loveseat. Then I wandered into the kitchen to find Jack, hopeful that he was here and I wouldn't be alone. Sometimes he went places after his classes were over.

But he was sitting at the kitchen table sipping some tea and reading the paper. "Hey," I said to him, and then rummaged through the fridge, coming out with an apple and some cheese. I sat down across from him at the table. "So," I began, biting into my apple. Hr grunted in response. "I met one of the boys who killed Bob."

He immediately dropped the paper and leaned across the table towards me, anger flashing in his eyes. "Which one? What did you say to him?"

"The other one. Not the one who killed him—Bob. Ponyboy. Anyway, I just struck up and friendly conversation with him is all. I know his brother."

Jack hit the table with his palm and stood up angrily, making his tea cup clink around on the wood. I raised my eyebrows at his back as he moved to stand in the bell of the rounded island in the middle of the kitchen. He turned around to face me. "What the hell is your problem, Laura?" he cried, giving me the evil eye, "How can you be nice to the kid that knifed our brother?"

"He didn't kill him," I snapped, "Bob was drowning him. The bastard was drunk as hell and he was drowning Ponyboy! What'd you expect Johnny to do, watch his friend die while waiting to get beat up?"

"He could've fought him off!"

"The kid is barely much taller than me and thin as a twig, Jack. And there was Bob and four friends, including Randy Adderson. Be realistic."

"That's not the point, Laura!" he practically screamed at me, "Our brother is dead because some morons went snooping where they shouldn't!"

My mouth dropped open. "Bob and his gang were on the East Side, Jack! They were the ones looking for trouble! They were the ones snooping where they shouldn't!"

"This wouldn't have happened if those kids hadn't picked Cherry and Marcia up at the movies!"

"They didn't 'pick them up'," I scoffed, "The girls agreed to be walked home. It was that or get jumped or raped. Would you have liked to see Cherry hurt? Huh?"

He was quiet for a minute, calculating this. Then he ignored the question and yelled, "That's not the point! The point is, you are fraternizing with juvenile delinquents!"

I laughed mockingly, not believing what I was hearing. "Oh, please. And you're saying Bob wasn't a juvenile delinquent? You're saying you weren't when you were his an my age? Get real Jack; wake up from that dream of yours. Their my friends!"

"I don't care!" he screamed, "You can't see them anymore! They killed him!"

"It was a bloody accident!"

"Yeah it was bloody; our brother's blood!"

"Shut UP!" I screamed in his face, "You wouldn't know a friend if it bit you on your non-feeling nose you emotionless bastard!"

His slap came so fast and hard I didn't have time to duck. It echoed around the kitchen, the noise coming back to us again and again. "Don't you ever call me that again!" he shouted. Tears were welling up fast in both our eyes. I'd forgotten that Jack really was a bastard. His Mom and my Dad hadn't been married when they had him. He'd been an experiment, an accident. But right then I didn't care if I hurt so much his heart broke. "Don't you ever, on your life, call me that again; you little bitch. Got that?"

I straightened up, my hands balling into fists, my arms tight at my side. My face, already streaming with tears, put on a look of sheer defiance. "I am in love with Dallas Winston," I told him shakily but firmly and rather calmly. Then I turned on my heel and ran out the back door into the cold, leaving him in the kitchen with a look of pure rage on his tear-stained face.

I was in love with Dallas Winston. Oh, yes, Jack knew that name too well. Dallas had, after all, been the one that had killed Jack's birth mother.

But right now all I cared about was getting the hell out of there. I leaped into my car and drove as fast as I could to the East Side and to the hospital. Once there, I argued with the nurse but she refused point blank to let me see Johnny. She said there were already two boys in there and that was enough. So I waited by the door for what felt like hours until a petite lady came storming around the corner. She had wild hair and big black eyes full of hate. She glared at me so hard I almost backed up and then went on with arguing with the nurse about seeing her son. I stifled a gasp. This must be Johnny's mother.

"I've got a right to see him," she yelled, "he's my son!"

"I'm sorry miss," the nurse said desperately, "But he's insisted not to see you."

The woman's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What did he say?"

"He said that he didn't want to see you because all you'd say was that he was causing you and your husband a lot of trouble, and—"

"Ha!" she spat, "Well, the boy's right about one thing. Hospital bills, police bills, constant interviewing. That boy is going to get it; if not from me, then for his old man when he gets home."

The nurse's eyes pooled with tears. "Oh, Mrs. Cade. I'm afraid that Johnny won't make it home."

My heart sank and my vision blurred. How awful. Poor Johnny. Poor Ponyboy. I was so worked up I didn't bother stopping my tears. They flowed freely down my round cheeks, dripping off the side of my face and onto my neck. I didn't even wipe them away. I just let them fall. These tears were for Johnny, for Ponyboy and Sodapop and their brother and for Cherry and Randy and…Bob…and for Jack and myself…and…in a way, Dallas Winston.

The door suddenly opened with a bang and I had to scurry away to avoid being hit but it. Ponyboy and Two-bit came out. Both of them looked upset, and Ponyboy was starting to cry.

"But still," Mrs. Cade went on, un-dented that her son was going to die, "I can't believe he'd rather see these no-good punks than his own mother." She jerked her thumb at Pony and Two-bit and gave him the same evil glare she'd given me. Ponyboy actually backed up a few steps.

But Two-bit stepped forward, his eyes watering fast. "You shut your trap," he cried. Mrs. Cade's mouth dropped open. "No wonder he hates your guts. You don't even care about him, you damned drunk! You and your bastard of a husband! You go to hell!" Ponyboy put a hand on Two-bit's shoulder, though he was also shaking with tears. "You go right to hell, you hear me?" Ponyboy began to pull him away, but Mrs. Cade was not finished.

"You little son of a bitch! Get back here and—"

"Leave him alone!" I screamed.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded, looking me up and down, disgusted.

"Johnny deserves better than you, you old witch. Two-bit's right, go to hell! Go to fucking hell where you and your mother fucking husband belong!"

I felt a firm hand grab my arm and pull me away. Johnny's mother screamed some curses at us but we kept going, trying our best to ignore her.

By that time all three of us were crying freely, but only Two-bit was making an effort to stop. I walked in between them. They didn't even question my being here, and I was glad. I didn't want to talk right now. It seemed they understood. I felt cold fingers touch mine and accepted Pony's offer. I laced my fingers through his and held his hand. I did the same for Two-bit. I had only met Ponyboy the day before and Two-bit less than a week ago, but it felt as if I'd known them all my life. It was hard to explain.

We walked quietly, hand-in-hand, to Dallas' room and Two-bit pushed the door open. He had stopped crying and Pony's tears were slowing down but mine kept coming as if someone had forgotten to turn off the tap.

We entered silently except for the scuffing of our shoes. Two-bit and Ponyboy pulled the only two chairs in the room up to Winston's bed and I stood behind them with my head bowed. Suddenly I wanted to be anywhere but a room with Dally Winston.

He gave his buddies a sly grin and shook their hands. He looked at me questioningly, cocked an eyebrow. "What's she doin' here?"

Oh, no. The other two turned to look at me. "Yeah, what are you doing here, Laura?" Ponyboy asked.

"I-I came to see Johnny," I half lied. I had come to see Johnny, but the main reason was to see Winston. Now I wished I was anywhere but in a room with him lying in a bed with nothing on but his shorts.

That seemed to satisfy him. He turned his attention back to Two-bit and Ponyboy. "How's the kid?"

"He don't look too good," Two-bit answered shakily, looking down and then up and then down again. "He passed out cold 'fore we left."

Dallas' jaw went white as it clenched and a nerve throbbed in his temple. He was quiet for a moment, then: "You still got that knife on ya, buddy?"

"What?"

"The knife. Give it here, will ya?"

In a flash Two-bit flicked out his butterfly switch and handed it to Dallas. "Thank you." He turned away from us and said nothing else. The look on Pony and Two-bit's faces told me that their meeting with Dallas was over. I began to follow them out, disappointed, but Dallas called me back. "Hey, Laura. Stay a minute, will ya?"

Startled, I told Ponyboy and Two-bit that I'd catch them later and returned to Winston's bedside, sat in Ponyboy's vacant chair. "Yeah?"

"I wanted to apologize."

"Then say it to my face, please." Whoa, where did that come from?

Dallas turned onto his back, his expression reading that he was thinking the same thing. "Sorry," I said quickly. "What did you want to apologize for?"

"For acting the way I did. For scaring you, mostly. Y'know?"

I recalled the night that he had attempted to rape me. I also remembered that it had been Sodapop who had saved me, and I smiled in spite of myself. "Yeah, I know. Thanks."

He looked at me expectantly. "Well?" he asked, "Is the apology accepted?"

I pretended to think about it for a few moments for emphasis, then said, "Yeah, you're forgiven."

He looked relieved. "Good. That was really beefin' me, man."

I frowned in disbelief. "Really?"

"He-ha. I felt awful. I was stoned like a bastard, but I guess that's no excuse when it comes to the law."

_Like you care about the law, _I thought grimly, but I said, "Well. I'm glad you have some innocence in you, Dallas Winston." He grinned at me but I knew the conversation was over. I smiled my sweetest smile at him, hoping he'd catch me natural charm, and left the room, feeling a lot better about things.

When I got outside Ponyboy and Johnny were getting onto a city bus. I left them alone and got into my car, contemplating what to do. I decided to go pay a visit to someone I hadn't seen since that whole mishap at the bar three nights ago. I spun my car around onto Sutton and headed to the Westside to visit Cherry.


	9. Acceptance

**WESTSIDE GRAFFITI**

_By AllzStar_

- I do not own the Outsiders -

- Laura Sheldon, George Sheldon, Emily Sheldon, Jack Sheldon, Carmen Eckheart and Ron Brown are straight from my imagination, therefore they belong strictly to me. The same thing goes for any other small characters that I did not mention who you do not recognize. Thank you! -

_Story summary: They thought the Socs had it all, so they figured one death would only affect them. But they were wrong. There was no forgiving forgetting this time. The death of her brother brought an enormous weight down on her shoulders that she was not ready to carry._

**Chapter Nine**

_Acceptance_

_The world was spinning around me in a disarray of colors. Blood leaked from an open wound in her side and the knife lay a few feet away, her blood staining the blade to crimson perfection. Her pulse was slowing. She was unconscious already from blood loss. Even her fiery hair was no match for the red of her blood, pooling underneath her, blood was still pulsing out of the wound and there was nothing I could do. Her skin, white as snow, and then her hair, red as the rose, and her blood even redder. That was all I could see. The colors were swirling together and I collapsed onto the kitchen floor, her blood staining the hem of my pants, soaking through to my skin. Tears mixed in with the blood, causing little swirls to erupt within them. I'm dreaming, I thought. Dreaming…only dreaming…it's got to be a dream…she can't be dead…_

"Laura…"

_Her lips parted and she gasped, and then went completely still…_

"Laura, wake up…!"

_The blood flow stopped and her corpse grew rigid…_

"Hey, I think she's coming around!"

What?

"Give her space!"

My eyes, against my will, opened. I was looking up into a familiar face but I couldn't put a finger on who it was. His face broke out in a large, dazzling smile as I stared into his eyes. He leaped to his feet and danced around. "She's awake!" he cried, flinging his hands in the air, "She's awake!" He knelt by me again and touched the side of my face.

Now I knew who it was: It was Sodapop, Ponyboy's brother. The one who didn't want me around. The one who'd chased me away. I jerked my face away from his hand and paid for it when my head swam wildly and I felt incredibly sick. I went back to looking straight ahead, at the grey sky.

My back and butt were cold and wet…looking around me with only my eyes I saw that I was laying on ice-covered pavement. The smell of burning metal and gas reached my nostrils and I gasped, repulsed. I also tasted blood in my cottony mouth and sensed blood leaking from my nose.

Sodapop touched me again, this time taking the back of my head so that it was cushioned from the pavement. I didn't move away from him.

Suddenly I gasped, not in pain, but in realization. My dreams had a reputation of coming true. When I had gone to sleep the night before Bob was killed I saw him die. What if Cherry was actually…

I struggled to sit up, and Sodapop helped me. A high-pitched screaming came heard and I realized it was an ambulance. Sitting up, I could see a lot more. My car, smoking and burning, was crumpled against the rock wall that lined the highway. It was only a few feet away from us and I could smell the burning rubber, gas and metal. I nearly gagged. I also saw another car, also damaged, on the other side of the highway with several people standing around it, watching me. Police cars had shut down the highway, their cars blocking the other from passing. It was obvious what had happened, but I couldn't remember anything.

When I tried to stand my head spun and Soda pushed me down. "Please, Soda," I gasped, "I think something's happened to Cherry!"

He looked at me funny. "How's that?"

"Cherry!" I cried, "I think she's hurt herself!"

"How do you know?"

"I had a dream…a vision or something…and I have a rep for dreams coming true. She killed herself, Soda…what if it's already happened?" Panic was rising in my throat and my stomach churned. I leaned away from him and vomited. I turned back to him, wiping my mouth on my sleeve. "We have to get to her!"

"I'll go," he griped, "You're in no condition to go anywhere. But let's wait till the medics get here."

"No!" I grabbed his arm. "Go now, or it might be too late!"

"I don't know where she lives, Laur."

It suddenly hit be that he wasn't planning on making sure she was alright. He didn't believe me. He thought I was delusional. He thought I was crazy. He didn't care about me, didn't want me. He didn't care. He didn't care…

"Hold up! Hold it! Let me the hell through! Let me pass, ya morons! That's my friend!"

I recognized that voice. I had never been so happy to hear it. I sat back up, shrugging off Soda's helping hand, and looked right into the eyes of Dallas Winston. For once they were not filled with bitterness and hate. Compassion took their place. Compassion and concern. It was incredible. To think I was the only one who could look deep enough to see it. Sodapop just looked and Dally blankly, his jaw clenched.

As Dally approached me quickly the ambulances pulled up. Medics dressed in white opened the doors and began pulling out stretchers. I knew I had little time with Dallas.

He dropped down beside me and looked into my eyes. Then he took me into his arms and hugged me. It wasn't a "I want you" hug, or a "I'm in love with you" hug. It was an "I'm your buddy and I'm here for you" hug. And that was what I had secretly always wanted from Dally Winston. Not for him to love me, but for him to accept me.

He pulled away and touched my face gently. Then I realized he was wiping away some blood that was dripping from a wound on my head. Then I noticed his patched up arm. "What are you doin' out of the hospital?"

"They let me out," he said casually. Then he grinned his famous grin. "With a little persuasion of course."

He reached into his back pocket and flicked out Two-bit's butterfly switch-blade. I gasped. "You didn't."

"I did."

"Well, put it away 'fore the cops see it."

Smiling slyly, he obeyed, shoving it back into his pocket.

I sighed. "So I guess I got myself into a car accident, huh?"

"No shit," he scoffed, looking at the sky then back at me. His eyes were hard again. "That car whammed ya a good one."

I frowned slightly. "You saw it?"

"Yeah, I was hitchin' a ride with Sodapop. That crazy kid's so handsome the crowd basically parted for him. But they went right back to where they were 'fore I could pass, the…" he went on to call the bystanders every bad name in the book. I only smiled and leaned back into his arms. He shook me gently, smiling. Blinking, I realized he was teasing me. I smiled back at him.

The next thing I knew I was lying on a stretcher and I was moving away from Dally. I stared back at him. He looked so defeated, standing there watching me go. Then I realized something. "Cherry!" I screamed at him, "Go to her house, make sure she's okay! Something's happened to her and—"

The ambulance's doors closed with a bang before I could finish. There were two doctors in with me. They were feeling all my wounds and limps and it hurt in some places, so I tried to push them away. Something pricked at my arm and I fell into a world beyond my own…


	10. Call It Love

**WESTSIDE GRAFFITI**

_By AllzStar_

- I do not own the Outsiders -

- Laura Sheldon, George Sheldon, Emily Sheldon, Jack Sheldon, Carmen Eckheart and Ron Brown are straight from my imagination, therefore they belong strictly to me. The same thing goes for any other small characters that I did not mention who you do not recognize. Thank you! -

_Story summary: They thought the Socs had it all, so they figured one death would only affect them. But they were wrong. There was no forgiving forgetting this time. The death of her brother brought an enormous weight down on her shoulders that she was not ready to carry._

**Chapter Ten**

_Call It Love_

I came to in a brightly lit hospital room. Everything was brilliantly white; sunlight streamed through the half open window and cool air drifted through it, blowing the white curtains askew. It was actually quite nice. Except for the fact that I had tubes up my nose and sticking to my arms and shoulders. Urgh. I hated hospitals.

I blinked, looking around, and tried to scratch my head. But there was a bandage there. It was so itchy! I grunted in frustration and something in the corner of the room moved. I looked up, and gasped. "What are you doing here?"

Dally pushed away from the wall and came to stand by my bed. "Nice to see you, too." He smiled slyly, and then approached me. "I was coming to see how you were is all," he said, trying to look innocent. But Dallas Winston would never be innocent.

I was relieved to see him. Of all the people I could wake up to, I wanted it to be him. "Pull up a chair, will ya?" I asked him, smiling as best as I could. There was latex on my face or something. He obeyed and sat down, putting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. "So how long have I been out for?"

"Just a few hours," he replied, cocking his mouth to one side, "They put sleepy drugs in ya because you were thrashing out and they had to take care of ya and shit. You were in shock."

I winced. "Sheesh. When do I get to leave?"

"They didn't say. They would only speak to family."

"Where is my family, anyhow?"

He looked at the floor. "They haven't showed up yet."

I looked at Dally. He seemed…older somehow. As if something had recently happened that had changed his life…or something was going to happen that would change his life. "What's up, Dal? You seem real blue."

"Eh," he said, "The rumble's tonight. Everyone's blue 'fore a rumble."

I half laughed have scoffed. "I can't believe you're going."

"Why?"

"Because. It's not going to change anything. Whether you win or lose, it's not going to change the way things are. Greasers will still be greasers, Socs will still be Socs. That's what Randy Adderson always says. He doesn't like fighting."

"He beat up Johnny, didn't he? He helped try to drown Ponyboy didn't he?" Dally was on his feet now, and he was angry. "He's just like all the other Soc bastards. All they care about is themselves. How could they try to kill him? He's only a kid! And Johnny's harmless as a fly, he only killed your brother to save Ponyboy because the bastard was killing him!"

"Dally," I warned, glaring at him.

"No!" He cried, "I'm through with giving in to you! You've changed me, made me soft. I can't be that way. Not as a greaser, not as anybody. If you change me anymore I'll die, understand?"

I felt like crying, but I didn't. "Dally; I'm not trying to change you. I like you the way you are. In fact, I…well…" I felt myself blushing. "The way you are is what…made me like you. Your persona. I haven't known you long enough to know what you're like deep down, but it shows through the tough guy you want to be sometimes, usually through your eyes. Your eyes say so much."

"Damn," he spat, "Damn eyes, then."

"No! You have beautiful eyes. I…I love your eyes."

He turned to face me, and, proving my point, I saw the hope in them. Raw, doubtful hope, but hop nonetheless. Maybe he did feel for me the same as I did for him.

"Well, thanks." He was suddenly awkward. "Sorry, for…ya know. Flipping like that. I've just got a lot on my mind with Johnnycake in the hospital and all."

"You're welcome. And that's okay, I'm worried about him, too."

"You are?"

"Well sure."

"But you don't know him."

"But I know you and Sodapop well enough to know that it would kill you if he died."

He jaw tightened. "Damn right. I couldn't live without our Johnnycake. None of us could."

We were quiet for a moment, but I had a feeling we both wanted to do the same thing. Finally, Dally got tired of waiting and bent over to place his mouth against mine. The kiss was rough and inexperienced, but it was the though that counted. I kissed him back as best as I could.

When he pulled away I saw joy in his eyes. I smiled, and he smiled back. "I'll get the doctor," he said with finality, getting up and going to the door, "To see if they'll let ya out."

I knew what he wanted. And right then, I wanted the same thing.


	11. We're All Damaged Somehow

**WESTSIDE GRAFFITI**

_By AllzStar_

- I do not own the Outsiders -

- Laura Sheldon, George Sheldon, Emily Sheldon, Jack Sheldon, Carmen Eckheart and Ron Brown are straight from my imagination, therefore they belong strictly to me. The same thing goes for any other small characters that I did not mention who you do not recognize. Thank you! -

_Story summary: They thought the Socs had it all, so they figured one death would only affect them. But they were wrong. There was no forgiving forgetting this time. The death of her brother brought an enormous weight down on her shoulders that she was not ready to carry._

**Chapter Eleven**

_We're All Damaged Somehow_

"Shit!"

I woke with a start, blinked. I sat up, scratched my head. Dally was frantically pulling on his jeans, and he nearly knocked over the dresser as he lost his balance. He kept muttering shit over and over again.

I tried to remember what had happened. It took about five minutes every time I woke up to recall what had happened to me before I'd gone to sleep ever since I'd fallen and hit my head on the corner of the coffee table when I was nine. As Dally yanked a t-shirt over his head I remembered: I'd gotten out of the hospital and Dally had taken me out to lunch and then he'd taken me back to where he was renting a room—Buck Merrill's place or something like that—and we'd slept together. Oh, God. I wasn't a virgin anymore. But then I smiled. I'd given it to the one I loved. At least we'd had the condom. I froze. He had used a condom, right?

"Dally?" I said quietly. He was still trying to get his head into the arm hole of the t-shirt. "Dally." He turned to look at me, frustrated, dangerous. "Did you use a condom?"

He looked at me blankly for a few seconds, registering, or remembering, then he said, "'Course I did. I'm not an idiot."

I didn't feel reassured, but I trusted him, so I let it go. But my mind wandered all over the place. What if he hadn't used one? What if it broke? What if I got some sort of disease? What if, oh, my God, what if I got pregnant?

I stood up from the bed and began tugging my clothes on, horrible thoughts running through my mind. As I pulled my jumper over my head I began to feel sick, so once dressed I sat back down.

Dally had finished dressing and was searching his pockets to make sure everything was there. Then he looked at me. "C'mon, we'd better get out 'fore Buck wakes up. Let's go." When I nodded he pulled me by the hand out of the room, down the stairs and out of the pub. When we were alone in the street he immediately kissed me hard, then took me into his arms, holding me against his hard chest. I breathed in his scent and ran my hands all over his back.

Suddenly he pulled away from me and looked right into my eyes. "I have to go to the rumble," he said quickly, "I'm already late. The boys'll wonder where I am. Listen," he took my face in his hands and kissed me lightly before continuing. "Listen. I don't want you telling anyone about…us…before I'm ready, okay? I want to be the one to tell. Promise you'll keep it quiet until the rumble's over?"

I nodded. "Of course, Dal." I placed my hands over his and leaned my face into his touch. "It's hard, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"I mean, you're fighting against my kind. People like me. You're going to be hurting them, they're going to be hurting you." My head was reeling. I wanted to stay with him, I loved him. But what choice did we have? We couldn't stay this way. It just wouldn't work. "We're not any different from you. We're all the same. It doesn't matter which side of town we live on. So why do we keep fighting?"

"I don't know, Laur," he replied softly, using I tone I'd never heard him use. "It'll be alright, wait and see. I promise everything will be fine, ya dig?"

I looked down, trying to smile, but he lifted my chin up gently with his finger. He kissed me again, this time with more passion. I whimpered and threw my arms around his neck, thrusting myself into him so hard he backed up and crashed into the wall behind him. But we kept kissing.

Finally I broke the embrace and hugged him tight. He held me just as hard. I never wanted him to let go. But, everything good must end, so he let me go, kissed me one more time, and then ran off down the street. I watched him until he turned a corner and then walked back over to my car, got in. Firing up the engine, I still didn't feel any better. I had a bad feeling something horrible was going to happen.

On the way home I started to cry for no reason except I was scared for Dally. I was scared for Dally and Ponyboy and Sodapop and Johnny and everyone who was hurting. They were all hurting; I could see it in their eyes. And it was obvious Johnny was in pain. Even though Dally and I were together now, I still saw that hard, lost look in his eyes and that was how I knew it could never be. But I still loved him. I guess we're all damaged somehow.

When I got home I immediately went into the kitchen. My mother turned around and took me into her arms, muttering something like she couldn't get away from work to see me but she hoped I was okay; blah, blah, blah. It was obvious she'd given up on me. My father was no where to be found, but I passed Jack on the stair case. With a brief nod of my head and went right on by. I had a feeling he was sorry, but I couldn't tell. He didn't make any move to show so.

I flopped down on my bed, the thought of the supposedly missing condom coming back to haunt me. After about fifteen minutes Emily, my mom, stuck her head in and told me that she and daddy and Jack were all going out and they'd be back a few hours. I grunted in response and she left. Once I heard the car start and pull out of the driveway I left my room and went back into the kitchen. I was very hungry. I hadn't eaten anything since yesterday.

I sat on the couch with a bowl of chips and flipped on the TV, though I wasn't really paying attention. My mind wandered to the boys I loved, the boys who were getting hurt right now as I sat here eating chips and "watching" TV. How could I be doing this? I should be pacing in front of the window waiting for one of them to come over and hug me and tell me everything was alright.

I turned the TV off and with a cry I hurled the remote across the room. It collided with the wall and left a big black mark on it, but I didn't care. I went back into the kitchen and threw the rest of the chips into the garbage and tossed the bowl into the sink. Suddenly the kitchen swirled in front of me and my stomach leapt into my mouth. I threw up into the sink. Panic immediately rose in my as I spat the last of it out. Was I pregnant? No, the symptoms wouldn't be showing yet. I was just sick to my stomach with the bad thoughts that floated through my mind. Or maybe I was still delirious from the accident and the sex I'd had wasn't helping my fever.

There was a loud knock on the door. I wiped my mouth on the dish cloth and rinsed the vomit down the drain. Just as I was leaving the kitchen the knock came again. "I'm coming!" I shouted, irritated. I stumbled over to the door and opened it. There was Sodapop, only he wasn't happy the way I'd thought he'd be. He didn't hug me and he didn't say everything was okay.

Instead, he had tears streaming from his huge brown eyes and he was scared and distraught about something. My heart sank and I knew immediately that everything was not alright. "Sodapop," I said, urging him to do more than just stand there, crying. "What's wrong? Soda?"

"Johnny's d-dead," he whispered, and then broke down in sobs.

My mouth fell open a little and tears sprang into my eyes and immediately started rolling down my cheeks. As my heart sank I put arms around Sodapop's waist and pulled him into a hug. He tightened his grip on me and we sobbed into each-other's shoulders.

"D-Dally—"he gasped. I pulled away immediately and looked at him, my heart thumping wildly in my chest.

"Dally what? What happened? Tell me, Soda!"

He sobbed some more, then managed to gasp out, "He's…g-gone!"

"What?"

"He's gone. Dead. Dally's dead, too."

My jaw fell and my eyes widened, but the tears stopped. My whole body felt as if it was going limp. Even my hair felt as if it was drooping. A ringlet fell in front of my eyes and I didn't bother to brush it away. I looked at Sodapop, but desperation was already making my vision glassy. "What did you say?"

"Dallas is dead! Do I have to draw you a picture! He's gone! Got himself shot down by the police! He couldn't take it when Johnny died, so he basically killed himself! What's there not to understand?!"

I looked down, then up, then left, then right, then at Sodapop, then down again. This was not happening. It wasn't. He wasn't dead. He couldn't be. We had finally gotten through to each-other, and he was dead? No. That couldn't be. He couldn't leave me now, not now, not ever. Why was Sodapop being so cruel?

"Shut up." I sank to my knees, wrapping my arms around myself. "You're lying. How could you lie about something like this?"

"I couldn't," he gasped, getting down on one knee and lifting my chin up with his finger. "They really are gone. I'm so, so sorry, Laura. We tried to stop him…"

The gesture was too familiar. It had only been an hour ago that he had made the same gesture. I could still feel the place where his finger had been, right under my chin. Suddenly all the places where he touched me burned. My lips, my thighs and calves, my breasts, my stomach and my sides, my shoulders, my hands and arms and collarbone and forehead and cheeks and neck and ears, my butt and other places I couldn't name. He was all over me, and I wanted to keep it that way. Even if I showered, he'd still be there.

"I'm sorry, Sodapop," I said, gently lifting my chin out of his touch, "I need to see Ponyboy."

His eyes filled with tears again. I gasped. "Don't tell me he's—"

"No," he said quickly, "No, he's still alive. But he's…well we don't know exactly what's wrong with him. He's sick."

"Oh." I closed my eyes for a moment. "Can I come by sometime during the week?"

"Of course."

"Thanks Sodapop. No go home and get some rest and don't be hard on yourself. Tell that to the rest of the gang."

"I will. Thanks, Laura." We stood up, but he didn't make a move to leave. Then, quickly and awkwardly, he leaned over and kissed my cheek lightly. He smiled, though tears were still escaping from his brown eyes, and then he ran down the walk and down the street. I watched him go. Then the tears came.

I slammed the door and stumbled into the house, but collapsed before I could get anywhere. My back shook and I cried harder than I'd ever cried before. He's gone, he's gone, he's gone. That's all I could hear, that was all I could hear, that's it. It kept repeating. I fought to control myself. I pushed myself up onto the couch and curled up in the corner, hugging my knees to my chest.

He's not really gone, I told myself while taking deep breaths. He really is still here. I though about his white blond hair: how the wisps had stuck to his forehead with sweat while we were fooling around in bed. How his eyes had always been full of hate and bitterness, but deep down there was still hope and love, love for me. So he wasn't dead. Sure, his body was. But Dallas Winston would always live on, though me and Ponyboy and Sodapop and Two-bit and Soda's brother and his best friend. And Johnny would be right there with him. Johnny would always be there with Dally. They were both dead, but really it was just the beginning for both of them.

Suddenly I felt a lot better. I had stopped crying and acceptance was starting to sink in. With the knowledge that he was still here in spirit, I was fine. I was me, with him watching over me. I could handle it. Sure, I was still distraught that I wouldn't really see him again. But we're all damaged somehow.

**A/N: The next chapter is the last one, and then I'll start working on the sequal. I made sure there were twelve chapters, just like the book. :)**


	12. Stay Gold

**WESTSIDE GRAFFITI**

_By AllzStar_

- I do not own the Outsiders -

- Laura Sheldon, George Sheldon, Emily Sheldon, Jack Sheldon, Carmen Eckheart and Ron Brown are straight from my imagination, therefore they belong strictly to me. The same thing goes for any other small characters that I did not mention who you do not recognize. Thank you! -

_Story summary: They thought the Socs had it all, so they figured one death would only affect them. But they were wrong. There was no forgiving forgetting this time. The death of her brother brought an enormous weight down on her shoulders that she was not ready to carry._

**Chapter Twelve**

_Stay Gold_

"Go on, Laura. You'll be fine!"

When I hesitated again, Cherry pressed on. "Go!" She pushed me towards the bathroom door and I allowed myself to be pushed. I really didn't care anymore.

My period had not come when it was supposed to have come. This was the last resort I had to be sure if I was or was not pregnant. I sort of hoped I was. After all, it would be Dally's baby.

I entered the bathroom and shut the door, locked it. I pulled my skirt and underpants down to my ankles and sat down on the toilet. I opened the package and took out the pregnancy test. I held it under me as I peed. I wiped, flushed, and washed my hands before I looked at it. My heart fell.

Cherry basically leapt on me as I came out, my face blank. "Well?" she demanded. I held up the stick. Her eyes widened. "Oh."

I had never seen a more nauseating shade of pink. Oh, God. I was pregnant.

"Oh, my God, Laura! You're gonna be a mommy!" Cherry threw her arms around me, but I was still standing stiff as a board, staring at the pink end of the stick. "This is wonderful! Isn't it?" She pulled away and looked at me. "It is, wonderful, right?"

I considered this. I was pregnant. I would be freaking out and demanding abortion if it wasn't Dally's baby. But it was Dally's baby. A little bit of him was inside of me, growing. That was what made me smile. I threw the pregnancy test into the nearest trash can and grinned at Cherry. "Yeah, Cher," I said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "It really is wonderful."

---------------------

I knocked on the door, though I was still a little nervous. After a few beats it opened and Sodapop smiled down on me. "Hey, Laura. C'mon in. He woke up this morning. He's eager to see ya."

"Thanks." I followed him through the house. Darrel looked up from the newspaper and nodded, then went back to reading. "Hi," I said softly. He ignored me.

Soda led me to a room that was covered in books. Ponyboy was propped up against some pillows in bed, reading one. He looked up when Sodapop knocked on the door. "Hey, kiddo. You got a visitor."

Pony's eyes lit up. "Laura!"

"Hey Ponyboy!" I cried happily. I skipped over to his bed and sat on the edge. "How are you feeling, kiddo?"

"Eh," he said, shrugging. "How are you doin'?"

"Uh, fine," I said, deciding not to tell him about the baby. "What are you reading?"

"_Great Expectations._" He geld up a small blue book.

"Ah," I said, nodding. "It's a good one. I read it when I was in grade ten…wait, but aren't you fourteen?"

"I got put up a year in grade school."

"Oh."

"Do you know the poem 'Nothing Gold Can Stay' by Robert Frost?"

"Yes, it's my favorite."

"Well, when we were up in Windrixville, I told Johnny the poem. Except neither of us got what Frost really meant by it. But right before he died, Johnny told me to Stay Gold. Do you know what he meant?"

I smiled. "Sort of. Not really. I never quite got that poem either."

I did know what he meant, actually. But I had a feeling Johnny had already told him, it was just up to Ponyboy to figure it out.

"So when do you think you'll be ready to go back to school?"

"I dunno. Maybe sometime next week. I don't feel too hot, if ya know what I mean."

I laughed. "Oh, I do."

He paused for a moment, then said, "This is my third time reading this." He held up _Great Expectations. _

I raised my eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yeah. I really like it. And it's the only thing worth reading around here."

I smiled. "That's too bad. I should loan you some of my books sometime."

He grinned back. "I'd like that.

My face fell slowly, and I looked down. I realized right then just how much I missed Dally. I don't know what triggered it, but suddenly I felt extremely sad. Bob, Johnny, Dally. They were all gone. But not really, I reminded myself. I had to remind myself of that a lot lately.

"Are you okay, Laura?"

"Yeah, Pony. We're all going to be okay."

-------------------------

As I drove home I thought about that poem. I knew what it meant. But I didn't really appreciate it the way a good person would. Was I a good person? People said I was. But what did I think? I didn't know. I hadn't really discovered myself yet. I knew I was temperamental and a smart-ass, but I was also thoughtful and caring. I had many faults, but I had forgotten to appreciate the good things about me over the years.

When I got home I went into the kitchen to find Jack hanging out with his girlfriend, Carmen Eckhart, and his best friend, Ron Brown. "Hey, guys," I said quietly before ducking into the fridge to get something to drink.

Carmen was looking at me funny. "So, Jack tells me you're with child."

"Yep." I stood up to face her. "And I'm proud of it. It wasn't by accident. I want a child of my own."

"Okay, didn't mean to offend," she said defensively.

Ron decided to speak up. "If you don't mind my asking, who's the father?"

"He's dead," I answered sadly, looking at the floor. I turned away from them and poured water into a glass. I could feel all three of their gazes on my back, so I turned to face them. "Jack, can I talk to you a minute?"

"Yeah." He pushed away from the counter and followed me into the living room. "What's up? 

"I just wanted to say sorry. For before. For everything, really."

He raised his eyebrows. "Everything? That's a big responsibility."

"Jack, I'm being serious, please."

"Sorry."

"I just feel like we should be on good terms in case something like what happened to Bob happens to one of us. I mean, the last thing I said to him was 'I hate you'. And I know I'll regret it all my life. I love you, Jack. I always have, always will, not matter what I say." I hugged him around the waist and cried into his chest. He wrapped his arms around me.

"I know. I forgive you. Can you forgive me? I was a much bigger ass than you."

I laughed wetly. "Yes, of course I forgive you."

As I went up to my room, I thought about what I had thought about before. I really didn't know everything about myself. Before Bob had died, I had felt sure I knew exactly who I was. But I didn't. Now I didn't know a thing about me, and I had another one to think about to, the one who was growing inside of me. I touched my still flat belly. I couldn't wait to deliver the little dear into the world. Dally's little dear. The dear that Dally and I had created. I beamed and tears of happiness blurred my vision, but they didn't fall. I didn't want them to. Before I went to sit on my bed, I went over to the bookcase and pulled out _Great Expectations. _

**A/N: Done! That's it that's all folks! Westside Graffiti is finished! Stay tuned for the sequal!**


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